


Hair

by orphan_account



Series: a rose among brambles [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She may not know him well enough yet, but she does know how highly he regards his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

When he returns home, she notices that his hair is longer.

She doesn’t say a word, and they go about their day as though he had never left to travel the country and beyond for nearly a year. They pass each other in the palace with papers and documents in hand, exchange short, small smiles of acknowledgement, and carry on.

When night falls and the palace settles for bed, he slips into her bedroom, undressing her first before slipping out of his trousers, tending to what is still a business between the two of them.

They say nothing afterwards. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking out through the window at the moon as though searching for someone, and she lies on her back, skin still shining with sweat, staring at the ceiling not looking for anyone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him run his hand through his hair. Her voice breaks through the silence. "It's gotten longer."

"What?"

"Your hair, it's longer."

“I haven’t noticed.”

It's a lie. She may not know him well enough yet, but she does know how highly he regards his hair. She holds her tongue for a moment, wondering if she should leave it at that, turn over, fall asleep and let whatever she’s thinking disappear into the night.

“You look a lot like him, you realize.”

“Who? Cailan? Never heard _that_ before.”

“No. Not Cailan,” she turns over to face him and he’s looking at her, “Maric.”

He stares, his expression illegible in the moonlight. Without another word he grabs his clothes and the scissors she keeps on a table by the mirror, exiting through the door that connects their two adjacent rooms. It slams shut.

The next day, his hair is short once again.


End file.
